


The Best Place On Earth

by violents



Series: Carry On Countdown 2019 [6]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - The Song of Achilles Fusion, Ancient Greece, Carry On Countdown (Simon Snow), Carry On Countdown Day 22, Crossover, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Wine, but like ancient greek wine which is that HARD SHIT, you don't need to have read tsoa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:07:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21817126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violents/pseuds/violents
Summary: (A warm birthday on Mt. Pelion. Carry On Countdown day 22 - Fandom Crossover).
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: Carry On Countdown 2019 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1554958
Comments: 4
Kudos: 41
Collections: Carry On Countdown 2019





	The Best Place On Earth

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! This could VERY easily have fitted into the Myth Retelling prompt a few days ago, but since it's only barely an Achilles & Patroclus retelling, I thought it made more sense as a crossover with The Song Of Achilles by Madeline Miller, which is my favourite book after Carry On and an absolutely moving experience. If you haven't read it, you'll understand this fic no probs, but you totally should. It'll make you cry.
> 
> (those of you who have read it: DON'T WORRY THEY ARE STILL HAPPY IN THIS)

**Simon**

Mt. Pelion is the best place in the world, and I have been to quite a few places.

There’s a stream that I can swim in during the warm months of the year, and fish in when it’s cold. The trees hang low over the water, and I can swing down into it from them and make a huge splash, and the stream is deep enough that I won’t get hurt. There are figs I can pick when the season is right. We learn medicine and cooking and hunting, and we learn in  _ opportunities. _

Chiron is a wonderful teacher. The cave we sleep in is made of a rose-coloured stone, and it always smells a little bit like lavender and horses and straw. That sounds like it would stick in your nose and make you cough, but it’s comforting at this point. The bed we sleep in is warm and comfortable, and big enough for the two of us even as we hit sixteen years old. There's even room for space between us, on the nights when we’ve argued and don’t want to touch.

All of these things are amazing, and I wouldn't give them up for anything. But the thing that makes Mt. Pelion the best place in the world is Baz being here with me.

When we were little, before we were even ten, I hated him. I hated how he was better than me at shooting a bow and quicker on his feet, how he was raised as a prince and spoke with plummy, round vowels. How he had a few inches of height on me. How his parents showed the rest of us no warmth.

I went to live with the Pitches in Phthia when my father sent me away, after a fit of temper drove me to hurt another boy. I’m bitter about it to this day. It wasn’t my fault.  _ He  _ started the fight,  _ he  _ was picking on me,  _ he  _ was older and should have known better. I’ve always been explosively strong, more powerful than I look. The Pitch family are wealthy and influential, and they have a habit of taking in cast-off boys. They make damn sure those boys grow into strong men who are in their debt; essentially a private army. I think it's clever. Baz calls it dishonest, and says he plans to stop the emotional manipulation as soon as he inherits the estate.

I got stronger still while I lived there for those three years. I was taught to shoot (though I was never very good), swing a sword with a bit of technique rather than hacking, compose myself in front of royalty.

It still makes me angry that my father wouldn’t take my side. However, if I hadn’t been sent to the Pitches, I would never have met the eldest son of their line. Baz.

We didn’t get along for a good  _ year,  _ just like I didn’t get along with anyone else, apart from a few of the girls from the house next door. Then, somehow all at once, we were stuck together and were  _ never  _ separated.

Baz’s mother, Natasha, sent him to Chiron when we were twelve because she felt that the rest of the boys and I were a bad influence on him. She thought he would be better training alone.

I followed him. When he found me, exhausted, on the road to Mt. Pelion, he tackled me to the ground with less grace than I had ever seen him use. He held on to me silently for thirty seconds before saying, “I hoped you wouldn’t let me leave without you.”

I told him, voice cracking, “I had to follow you. You took my good sword.”

**Baz**

Waking up every morning to the golden sunrise and warm, pink reflection of the walls of the cave shining on Simon’s chest is going to kill me one day.

Sometimes I wish Chiron had known he was getting two students, rather than just me. Sometimes I wish he had put in another bed after that first night, when we were exhausted from travel and just needed to sleep. Sometimes I wish we didn’t fall asleep mere inches apart and wake up pressed together.

Simon sleeps shirtless in the summer, and Gods  _ damn  _ it, is it  _ summer. _

The day is warm, and I can smell bread cooking from Chiron’s big oven already, and today he turns sixteen.

Simon wakes up bit by bit, face changing from youthful sleep to dopey, tired wakefulness. When he turns his head to see me, pressed against his side, he grins.

“Baz. Hey. It’s my birthday.”

“Oh, is it? I’d forgotten.” He shoves me, and I almost fall off the bed. He grabs me and pulls me back up, and I end up holding on to his bicep. It's solid and muscular under my fingers.

I'm faster than him, and more nimble, and more accurate when I shoot a bow or spear a fish. However, his muscles are  _ extremely _ distracting. Also, he’s better at cooking.

“Don’t be an asshole. Sixteen is big.”

“Mhm.”

“Like, I’m officially a grown-up now. A man. That’s crazy. I feel like we were twelve about five minutes ago.”

“Yes, the concept of aging is very strange.”

Simon shoves me again, but he’s smiling and he has his arm around my waist, so there’s no bite to it. We’re both lying on our backs. I  _ badly _ want to roll on top of him and tangle my fingers in that mess of curly hair and kiss him  _ senseless,  _ but that’s not us. That’s not what we do.

We get up eventually, and Chiron wishes Simon a happy birthday. He begins preparing some fruit and breads for our breakfast as I dash to the cherry tree on the far side of Chiron’s land and pick the ripest ones. It’s a tradition of ours, founded when we realised that the cherries are at their best around Simon’s birthday, and there are apples around mine.

Simon loves cherries. Sometimes we bake them into sweet breads, when there are enough. I love the look on his face when we have them, and how they stain his lips pink.

When I return, Simon has already tucked in to his breakfast. When I turn sixteen in a few months, gifts will arrive from home. Maybe clothes, maybe weapons, maybe trinkets or jewels. My family is wealthy, and I am the heir. I’ll get something.

Simon doesn’t receive presents from anyone but Chiron and myself, so I try to make them good. This year, we’ve both been working on woodwork. I carved some little statues of things we both love, and whittled a spear with a point sharp enough to pierce any animal he’s hunting, well-weighted to throw. I’ve always been good at that.

I almost hate to give him a spear. I know that one day the two of us will be called to some war, and I’m hesitant to hasten that day’s arrival. But he asked for it, and who was I to say no?

**Simon**

I love birthdays.

Chiron is gone for the day, which is a bit of a shame— he had errands to run, or something. I suspect that he knows now that the two of us are quite happy to spend birthdays in only each other’s company.

We’re down at the stream, now. I can feel the skin on my cheeks getting too-warm and pink from the sun. I don’t care about that, though, because we have a bowl of cherries on the bank that we’re sharing and  _ all day _ to swim.

Baz has managed to sit on one of the branches that hangs over the water, and he’s looking down at me with a smile on his face. He’s caught the sun today, as well, worse than me, and he looks red in the face and joyful.

Baz is more prone to serious, low moods and apathy than I am. It’s nice to see him like this. I  _ love  _ when he’s happy.

However, it is also very fun to piss him off, so I jump out of the water and grab around his waist, pulling him off the branch.

He yelps and then laughs, kneeing me in the chest. We splash at each other and kind of half-wrestle in the water for a minute or so, tugging each other under until we’re breathless. When he holds his hands up for a truce, going up onto the bank to catch his breath, I see a red slash across the back of his thigh with blood running from it.

“Shit, Baz, you’ve cut yourself.”

He bends his neck awkwardly to try and look at the cut, touching his fingers to it as if just realising the sting. It doesn’t look deep, but I still wince as he touches it.

“No, Simon, I think  _ you  _ made me cut myself when you pulled me off the branch.”

“Sorry! Do you want to go inside?”

“No, it’s fine, I’ll live. Let’s eat.”

Why would I say no to that? We brought lunch with us, bread and fish and fruit, and we eat it on the bank of the stream, dangling our feet in the water.

When we’ve eaten, he tells me has a surprise for me, and gets a devious sort of look on his face that makes my stomach do something funny. He grabs a large jug from behind the tree near the water, with two cups.

“I may or may not have snuck out some wine.” He grins, proud of himself. “After all, it  _ is  _ your birthday.”

“Whoa! Consider me surprised!” He sits down beside me and pours us both a cup. “Not like you to steal.”

“He won’t even notice it’s gone.”

“Yeah, you’re too clever for your own good,” I say, sipping at the wine and then feeling my eyes almost water a little as it hits me how strong it is. “Gods, is this watered down?”

He takes a sip of his own and scrunches up his face. “Either it isn’t, or we’re both weak.”

“Okay, we’re having one glass each.”

“Slight correction:  _ sharing  _ one glass, this is stronger than I anticipated. Sorry.”

I shake my head. As _ if _ he needed to apologise.

We’re passing the cup back and forth and the dark wine is staining his lips. Our cheeks are red from the sun, and the grass is soft on my thighs where my tunic doesn’t cover them. I look at Baz, and the sun is behind him, so he’s cast in a striking silhouette, eyes bright.

I tilt my head to rest it against his shoulder. Everything about today is beautiful. Notably including him.

**Baz**

Today is  _ too much. _

Simon’s been inching closer to me ever since I broke out the wine (which I naively thought would be actually enjoyable to drink). His curls have dried fluffy, and they’re catching the light.

He moves his hand more hesitantly than I’ve ever seen him do anything. I’m not sure what he’s doing for a second, before he places it on top of mine, interlacing our fingers.

“Hey, Baz?” he says, voice gentle and low, “Thank you for today.”

“It’s your birthday. You always do the same for me.”

“Whatever you want to say to deflect. I loved it.” I want to tell him to be quiet, because every nice thing he says to me cuts deeper than that branch did on my leg before. I want to shut him up with my mouth on his. Then again, don’t I always?

I make some kind of noncommittal noise and squeeze his hand, looking away from him towards the cave. Chiron still hasn’t returned.

“ _ Baz. _ ”

“What?” I turn back to him, forcing a neutral expression.

“I love you. You know that, right? I love you.”

How does he  _ do  _ this? He’s the least calculating, most spontaneous person I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting, but he manages to totally disarm me with every word he says.

I want to take a jab at him. Sabotage this bubble of vulnerability. Protect myself.

Instead, I say “We’ve lived together since we were ten, Simon, that’s not surprising.” There’s an embarrassing tremor in my voice.

He laughs. “No, not like that.”

_ Again.  _ Again, again. I don’t know where this is coming from, but he squeezes my hand three times and shuffles closer. I suppose I must look particularly nice today, or something. I don’t know what’s happening, and that is an uncomfortable sensation.

He looks at me softly and puts the cup down. His eyes flicker over my face. And I think,  _ fuck it,  _ and kiss him.

He takes a second to process, I think, and that is terrifying, and then he puts his hands on my waist and all but pulls me into his lap, and I know I’ve gotten this absolutely right.

And being right is familiar territory.

I place one of my palms flat on his chest and run it up, over the tendon where his neck meets his shoulder, and he shivers and grips me tighter.

He breaks away for a second as he mouths at my neck. I’m taller than him and sitting on his thighs, so my neck is at optimal kissing level for him, and thank all the gods for that. Somehow he knows exactly what he’s doing. He’s so warm, and his hands on my waist feel almost like they’ll bruise, which shouldn’t be good but really,  _ really  _ is.

After a moment, though, I get tired of not kissing him (will I ever be able to stop now that I’ve started?) and push him backwards so he’s lying on his back in the grass. I hold myself up over him, eyes wide. He looks bewildered for a second.

“Well, happy birthday to me,” he says without sarcasm, and then pulls me down to kiss him again.

We stay out by the stream like that until the sun is setting, wrapped up in each other.

Every time I had daydreamed about this, I imagined I would feel frantic, my heart racing at a mile a minute and my hands moving urgently all over him. I thought I would try to touch as much of him as I could as quickly as possible. Just in case it ended sooner than I expected. But this doesn’t feel like that, because we’ve slept next to each other for three years now and I know him so entirely that it’s as easy as anything to kiss him.

Eventually, I end up lying with my head on his chest, gripping his hand and pressing my lips to his sternum, making him sigh.

We hear Chiron shout from the cave as the sun dips below the horizon. He must have gotten back at some point, and we didn’t notice. Simon sits up with a start, eyes wide, then slumps his shoulders.

“I don’t wanna go.”

“Neither do I. We have to, though.” Now I  _ am  _ a little nervous. I don’t know what Simon will think about the two of us being together like this, outside of this golden little span of time.

He sighs and stands, pulling me up. He doesn’t let go of my hand.

Chiron asks about the missing wine when we return. I honestly intended to return the mostly-full jug, but got a little distracted.

I see him notice our joined hands, and freeze, but he doesn’t question it. He just smiles.

Pelion is the best place on Earth.

**Author's Note:**

> GOD i loved writing this it's so warm
> 
> my tumblr is [galaxy-houseplants](https://galaxy-houseplants.tumblr.com).
> 
> Kudos and comments validate me and make me happy af, so if you have the energy I'd love if you'd leave one.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!


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